


sweet dreams aren't made of this

by meltingmoment



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, BAMF Hermione Granger, Captivity, Dark, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Power Play, Queer Hermione Granger, You're worried about Hermione but you shouldn't be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meltingmoment/pseuds/meltingmoment
Summary: "Touching your skin is like dragging a match across the striking surface. You are red phosphorous and glass; I am sulphur and smoke. I ignite and your magic reaches into me." Hermione/Ginny and one sided Tom/Hermione. Dark.





	1. i. rhubarb

 

[song for this chapter here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_AWIqXzvX-U)

* * *

There came a ragged breath. She heard it, and a small smiled curved on her lips and into the neck of the person she drank deep from. This was a moment alone, hard fought for. A whispery intake of breath was enough to confirm she'd been right to take it.

"Is this okay?" She murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to a lily-white neck, freckle covered and sweet smelling. Her companion appeared to force a swallow, an attempt to gather herself.

"Yes." The reply was soft, only semi-strangled. "Hermione, we shouldn't. Harry and the others are out there, we said we'd only be gone for a moment."

She was right of course. Her fingers interlocked with Ginny's and she placed a soft, light kiss on her paramour's yielding lips.

"Okay. I suppose I just couldn't help myself," A hand unlocked itself and dragged upwards, across buttons and soft material. "We can go back whenever you're ready."

An impetuous moan in response: the redheaded girl pulled her lover back in for another kiss. This one came in fast and hard, and was over as soon as it started.

"You're mean, you know." Ginny said, her tone mock acrid and a smile quirking her lips. She exited the bathroom stall, her eyes darting back to meet Hermione's before she disappeared, her long copper-red hair whipping out behind her and leaving Hermione dazed in a fog of coconut perfume.

She sank down to sit on the loo. She can't believe she just snogged Ginny bloody Weasley in some backwoods petrol station while their friends waited patiently outside. She didn't quite feel like herself, like Hermione Granger: bookish and outspoken, thoughtful and unselfish – a right swot sometimes. She hadn't felt like her for quite some time if she was honest. Not since her and Ginny had run into each other by chance one night and shared a night of intense and singular design.

She almost wanted to laugh right there at the thought of it. She'd always known she wasn't straight, not really one thing or the other really. But Ginny Weasley? She could have never anticipated falling into bed with her best friend's very complicated ex girlfriend. It definitely violated a boundary, and Hermione's own seemingly meticulous moral code; but then why did it feel so good?

Hermione felt guilty for not feeling guilty. Instead she felt exhilarated, she felt reborn. All her years of study and copious amounts of learning ensured she had never really had something quite like this. Two bachelors degrees later, and she was still happily single. Of course there had flings, distractions really. They'd been momentary and delicious, but distractions none the less. Ginny Weasley was so unexpected, the way she'd seeped into Hermione's pores and filled her head with this smile like sunlight, milky skin and a razor-sharp wit. All Hermione could do was thank her lucky stars it was summer break and she already had been granted entry into Honours, because this distraction was proving to be more overwhelming than any she'd previously indulged.

A car honked outside, and it jerked Hermione out of her sinful musings. She jumped to her feet and exited the cubicle, quickly splashing her flaming cheeks with cold water from a stainless steel sink and checking her reflection in a scratched foggy mirror. The sun cooked her as soon as she stepped out of the dinky bathroom, and she was met with her friend's impatient heckles as well as a painful reminder that she needed to reapply sunscreen.

"Did you fall in? Come on, we've got to get a move on before we lose too much light." Ron grumbled from the open door of the cramped van, where he was busily shovelling a chocolate bar into his mouth.

"Relax, Ronald. It's barely four; we have another six hours of light and half hour before we reach the national park. Do the math." She retorted, and he proceeded to perform a rather good impersonation of Hermione to Luna, who was stretched out next to him in the back. Hermione rolled her eyes while Luna pursed her lips in attempted disapproval, but fell into a giggle anyway. A noticeable flush of pleasure spread across Ron's face.

"Alright kids, settle down back there. Boy Scout Harry will guide you all to camp, be it light or dark." Harry was languidly resting an arm over the steering wheel, and waggled his eyebrows at Hermione as she got into the passenger seat next to him.

"God, I hate it when you talk in third person mate." Ron groaned from the backseat.

"Also, have you forgotten I was in Scouts with you? I helped you put out a small electrical fire more than once if I recall, I'm not sure you're equipped to lead us anywhere." Hermione crossed her arms and looked at him amusedly.

"Oi, the driver will accept no criticisms from you lot. Only snacks." Harry met Ron's eyes expectedly in the rear view mirror.

"Fresh out, I'm 'fraid." Ron sheepishly licked a streak of chocolate from his finger and indiscreetly scrambled to hide the evidence, burying the wrappers under his legs. Harry huffed, and noticed a tall figure walking back towards the car after exiting the sliding doors of the petrol station. Hermione suddenly busied herself by rifling through her backpack to look for her sunglasses.

"Gin, what did you get?" Harry called out; squinting at the plastic bag the redhead was swinging in her hand.

"Water." Ginny ducked to clamber into the back of the van, earning Ron's displeased protestations as she pushed past him to sit in the centre seat, nestling between her brother and her best friend, shooting her a knowing look as Luna shuffled closer to the window and began to stare purposefully out the window.

"Boring water!" Harry groaned, and Ginny playfully kicked the backseat.

"Yeah, if you call hydration boring Potter." She retorted, and he chuckled in response.

"God Gin, you're beginning to sound like Hermione. Promise me we won't  _stay_  hydrated once we make camp tonight." He pleaded, and everyone in the van laughed. Harry had convinced Hermione to let him pack enough wine to drown a small village.

"Well for those of us who want to enjoy a nice summery drink, I brought ingredients to make sangria!" Hermione piped up, turning to face Harry and the three seated in the back. Ron noticeably lit up at that. Harry started the van and pulled out onto the highway.

Hermione's eyes sordidly slipped to the beautiful girl seated behind her, and suppressed a smile when Ginny's doe-like eyes met hers. She couldn't help regarding her, present company be damned. Long, coppery hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a short-sleeved button down, green and so lovely against her soft freckly skin. Her warm brown eyes swam with intelligence and kept darting away shyly from Hermione's admittedly heated gaze. She never expected to be so ready to pursue Ginny, but it was almost as though they had been waiting for this the entire time they'd known each other. There had been glances of appreciation, mostly in response to something smart and cutting one of them said to the boys, but there was something that ran a little deeper. Hermione had never been able to put her finger on why she felt disjointed in Ginny's presence. She'd chalked it up to feeling intimidated by Ginny. It was only logical – women were put in competition with each other constantly, and Ginny was as smart as she was beautiful; she had a sea of admirers that attested to this fact. Hermione had retreated a little, attempted to work on herself and what she convinced herself were the feelings of jealousy every time she saw Ginny laughing on Harry's arm, kissing his cheek or flirting unabashedly.

And it  _was_  jealousy. Hermione just didn't know it wasn't directed at Ginny.

Her phone buzzed impatiently, and Hermione twisted around to push her hips upwards and slide it out of the pocket of her denim shorts. She clicked the home button and immediately tilted the screen away from Harry, despite him being distracted by the road and the Radiohead album he'd had on replay most of the trip (something about Thom Yorke's genius in his earlier work, but Hermione would've honestly preferred Beach House).

_don't, i cant focus when you look at me like that._

She forced her lips not to quirk as she typed a response.

_You make it hard. Surprised you had the gall to type that out and send that sitting between your brother and Luna._

She continued to hold back the smile she knew would be a dead give away if Harry so much as glanced at her. No one smiles at their phone while getting texts unless it's from someone special. And Harry would never let her hear the end of it if he thought there was someone in her life. She was a crummy liar and he knew it, there was only a matter of time until he'd find out. That was when things had the potential to get really ugly. It was already idiotic that she'd agreed to go on this camping trip to a national park in Yorkshire with the group, which included Ginny and Ginny's ex, who happened to be best friends with not only Hermione but also Ginny's older brother. Hermione knew Ginny had begged Luna to come with her, making up some half-lie about feeling awkward about being in such close proximity to Harry after their break up a few months ago, amicable though it was. It was less to do with Harry and more to do with Hermione; Ginny couldn't seem to help herself around the wild-haired girl, and that was a recipe for disaster. Luna had dreamily agreed, before inquiring if Ron would be joining. Hermione couldn't help noticing Luna was a little distracted by her task of keeping Ginny preoccupied, glancing in Ron's direction with a sweet little smile every so often. Ron would notice occasionally and go beet red at the ears.

God, their group was dysfunctional.

_well ur familiar with how quick my fingers can be arent u?_

As soon as she read the text, Hermione slapped her phone facedown on her thigh with such force that it caused a loud smack. Harry noticed and glanced at her with a puzzled expression.

"You alright Hermione? You've gone a little red," Harry seemed genuinely concerned, passing her a water bottle. "Gin's right, hydration is key."

Hermione smiled wryly, accepting it before shooting daggers at Ginny over her shoulder, who smiled smugly in response.  _Yeah, I'm fine, just exchanging saucy texts with your ex, who oh yeah, is sitting right behind us._  She kept that intoxicating thought to herself, and sloshed back some admittedly lukewarm water.

This was the most reckless and thoughtless thing Hermione had ever engaged with in her life. She was standing at the edge of an abyss without a parachute, or a lifejacket, or even a goddamned helmet. She'd never welcomed the dark unknown with such abandon and felt giddy and sick at the thought of free fall. Ginny was a wild card; she knew it from the moment she laid eyes on her. Maybe that's why she dove in.

* * *

Harry pulled into the car park at the edge of the national park at the time that Hermione had roughly estimated they would. A stickler for details, she had packed the entire van and organised for everyone to meet at Harry's with their packs four hours earlier. It had been a surprisingly quick drive from Cambridge to Yorkshire. Having summered in France and even as far as Australia, Hermione was no stranger to long car rides and often forgot how small her own country was. Part of her goal this year was to set out to see more of England, and summering locally was part of that. The others had been more than eager to blow off some steam after a hectic semester, the last for most of them, and Harry took the initiative and borrowed his uncle's van. The national park had always been on Hermione's list, famous for its beauty and climbing spots. Hermione was excited to hike and see the sights – and as Ginny bent over to pick up her pack, she realised just how much of that she'd be getting. Clearing her throat hurriedly, she began to address the group.

"Alright, then. Everyone grab your pack, it shouldn't be a long walk to the campsite but remember there are two bottles of wine-"

"Three bottles of wine!" Harry interrupted, and Hermione shot him a baffled look.

"Fine, there's three bloody bottles of wine in each of your packs. Really, Harry, two wasn't enough?" She hissed as she swatted the boy's arm. "I find it so hard to believe you're a graduate, what in the hell is the ruddy Bar going to do with you?"

"Probably drink with me, surely you're aware by now that all lawyers are wretched old drunks?" Harry shot back with a cheeky grin, and Hermione rolled her eyes and supressed a grin.

Hermione helped Luna getting her pack onto her shoulders – the poor thing was a head shorter than her – but once it was on, she didn't struggle. For such a small frame she carried eleven kilograms like it was nothing.

"You know, I see how you look at each other." Luna murmured as Hermione adjusted her own pack. Hermione shot a panicked look behind her, and was relieved to see Harry, Ron and Ginny having some sort of loud competition to see who could topple the other over first.

"Um. I'm not sure what you mean Luna." Hermione stated delicately, her voice decidedly tight. Luna simply smiled vacantly in response, but her eyes were far sharper than the dreaminess her voice and mannerisms let on.

"Yes, you do. I'm just saying you should be careful. There's a little more at stake here than your feelings for one another." Hermione nearly opened her mouth to tell Luna to mind her own bloody business, but promptly shut it once she thought better of it. Before she'd even had a chance to formulate any kind of response, Luna had already drifted off to follow the others, who had began to totter off in the direction of a path hooded with tall thin trees. Hermione strode behind them, hoping Harry was clutching the map she'd marked and thrust into his hands. Of course, she'd committed the route to memory during the trip there, but there wasn't much she could do so far behind the fray.

Hermione listened to her friends laugh with each other, and smiled softly. She'd hoped this trip would be an opportunity for everyone to unwind, including for herself. It had been a gruelling last semester, and she deserved to cut loose a little.  _She deserved Ginny_ , an ugly little voice inside her suggested. She amended her thought: no one deserved Ginny, especially since she had just broken up with her long-term boyfriend. Perhaps Luna was right, she mused dejectedly. Although not heartbroken, Ginny was vulnerable. Their feelings were clearly mutual, and while they hadn't declared them outright, Hermione couldn't expect anything from someone who'd been through a break up so recently. This was one situation where Hermione hoped she could let her heart take the lead instead of her head. But the circumstances were off, and she couldn't be selfish. Hermione knew she needed talk to Ginny as soon as they were alone, and respectfully back off, for a time at least. They couldn't exactly continue their heated back and forth at a campsite with all their friends at any rate.

The brunette was so caught up in her thoughts she nearly ignored the hairs on her beck that had suddenly raised. She paused, licking her lips nervously and furrowing her brow. Even though she couldn't see another soul, let alone hear one over her friend's caterwauling, she had the distinct feeling she was being watched. More than that, it was like she herself was being closely observed. She tried to calm her rising heart rate as her eyes darted between the trees, desperately seeking confirmation that there wasn't some strange creature regarding her with near predatory intent. Her mind told her she was being irrational, there was nothing there and it was silly to even entertain this anxiety. Something deep within her however, a secret so alive it was begging to be unlocked, was whispering that this felt  _wrong_. She could barely describe it, except possibly as some enhanced fight or flight response.

"Hermione! Come on, you're so far behind! Make a move or you won't have the pleasure of helping us set up camp." Harry called out from the top of hill she realised she was at the base of. Hermione looked up at him rather blankly and managed a shaky thumbs up, which he raised an eyebrow at and turned on his heel.

Hermione tried to shake off the feeling of dread that had begun to overwhelm her senses. She was being silly, having a panicky moment after a period of heightened stress. It's natural but not helpful or necessary, she reasoned as she made her start up the incline.

There was no way Hermione Granger was to know how much she would come to regret trudging up that hill and deeper into the national park.

 


	2. ii. simulacra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i'll be making an ambient playlist for this fic. the intention is that you listen to the song as you're reading each chapter. let me know what you think :^)

[click here for music](https://youtu.be/JsaOfAF6df4?t=2m30s)

* * *

 

Hermione almost couldn't put her finger on the feeling that rushed through her as she stepped onto the smooth rocks and made her way to the edge. Then it clicked.  _Déjà vu_. It felt different somehow, not quite that: it was strange but Hermione felt with some certainty she had been here before, even though she knew she hadn't. The limestone was cubed together haphazardly to make queer tiling suited for a giant's foot. She could barely focus on the beauty of the day. The dance between the sun and clouds was almost dizzying, clouds moving so quickly it made a flowing patchwork of light and dark on the fields stretched out below them. She felt a presence beside her and glancing over, Hermione realised Harry was next to her. His expression was unreadable; the sun reflecting on his glasses ensured that.

He next to her, she next to him: they had done this before, over and over in different ways, and now they were back. Hermione opened her mouth to say this to him, but it was bone dry and no sound came out. The sky darkened, and thunder rumbled in the distance. She tore her eyes away from Harry for a moment to look at the greying day. Gone was the collage of day and night; swallowed whole were the divine fields below. A hand enclosed itself on her upper arm.

"If I am here and you are too then it is simple." A voice that was not Harry's. Sharp and cold and high-pitched, it filled the pit of her stomach with dread. She knew it from a nightmare. Inexplicably, Hermione's eyes began to water. She was frozen in place. She did not want to turn and face the owner of that voice. This was just a dream, an awful one she would wake up from. Why then did she feel more awake than ever?

"Your magic has called to mine, witch." The voice had softened, as had the iron grip on her upper arm. Hermione forced herself to stay her eyes, keeping them affixed a sky that was coating the day in dark. It didn't stop her from seeing a cold white hand reaching out to stroke her hair, and then drag downwards to her cheek. The figure seemed to sigh in relief, an ancient sound, and Hermione felt a tug that forced her to lean into that touch. It was not of her own violation: her body was not her own. With growing horror, she felt her head being forced to swivel and as hard as she fought, she couldn't stop. She whimpered and forced her eyes shut to save herself from looking upon the dreadful spectre that was bending her to its will.

Hermione opened her eyes and screamed.

* * *

 

"Hermione! Hermione wake up, you're okay!" A soft voice was calling her name. Hermione jolted and sat up to see Ginny looking at her with an expression of unease marring her pretty face. Hermione blinked and struggled to remember where she was and where she had just been. She was lying on a rather thin foam mattress in a tent. Bringing herself to the present, she realised she must have taken a kip after setting up the camp with everyone. Strangely, she didn't remember that at all. She forced a smile and looked back to Ginny.

"Oh, sorry Ginny," Hermione smiled weakly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I must have been exhausted from the trip. How long was I asleep?" She asked, trying to keep her voice light. The awful dream she'd had was slipping away as quickly as it had come, but the feeling of dread remained. Ginny's face didn't change.

"Uh, not long," She replied slowly, carefully observing Hermione's expression, which she kept pointedly bland. "But Hermione, you were making all kinds of noises and thrashing around. You looked like you were going to scream so I tried to shake you awake. Are you okay?" Something dimly registered something in the back of her mind, but she couldn't allow herself to interrogate that. Ginny tentatively reached over to tuck a wayward curl behind Hermione's ear, and she almost twitched away as the memory of something distant flickered forward ( _horrifying white fingers, was this what déjà vu feels like?_ ). Ginny's hand fell as quickly as it had appeared, and Hermione felt a clench of regret as she remembered the conversation she had resolved to have (sickening remembrance falling through her mind like sand through unclenched fingers).

"Well, I'm fine," Hermione smiled forcefully and Ginny's face fell. Internally, Hermione hated that she was putting up this boundary. All she wanted to do was take Ginny's hand and kiss it, thank her for her concern and confide in her about her own strange feeling. It would do nothing but bind them closer together, and it wasn't what Ginny needed right now. "Look Ginny, I think we should go somewhere and talk. What are the others up to?"

"Drinking, of course. I tried to convince them to wait for you but they were very persistent," Ginny said with a wry smile. She was lightly drumming her fingers against her splayed thighs, eyes downcast. Hermione knew that was a tell for Ginny: she would tap tiny rhythms into her own skin and Hermione's whenever she was feeling anxious. She suddenly noticed a beaten copy of a book Ginny had discarded next to her own foam mattress. Luna had pointedly strewn her sleeping bag between the two other girls, and Hermione clambered over to retrieve it, her eyes lighting up when she read the title. "You're reading Vonnegut?"

"Yeah. You said he was one of your favourites right?" Ginny looked up at Hermione, and she felt her heart flutter wildly beneath her chest. No one had ever taken an interest in her favourite reading materials to the extent of seeking them out independent of her. She couldn't stop herself from swiftly leaning over and placing a hot kiss to the redhead's mouth. Ginny released a breathy sigh before reaching to cradle Hermione's face and melting into the moment. The cruel sound of unzipping forced them apart as though they were incompatible magnets. Luna stepped into the tent, taking in the scene before her. Hermione met her gaze of veiled disapproval evenly, while Ginny's eyes darted away.

"Well, I'm going to go get a drink. I'll see you both out there," Ginny said hurriedly, her tone painted bright. As she stepped out of the open tent and into the softly fading light, she caught Hermione's eye and mouthed a silent apology before sealing the tent. Luna's eyes were still on Hermione, and she sat down by her. She had a cup of red wine in her hand, which she offered Hermione silently. Hermione accepted and took a slow sip while she carefully mapped out her thoughts.

"Luna, I-" She began, but Luna interrupted.

"I don't want you to think I don't like you Hermione. Rather the opposite," She started calmly, as she reclaimed her cup and took a sip. "I really like you. Who doesn't? You're such an impressive person, and a loyal friend. I'm just looking out for Ginny because she doesn't always tend to do it for herself. She leaps before she looks – but that's why she's our girl right?" Her gaze slid up to meet Hermione's, hiding her impish smile by taking another swig. Hermione was surprised by Luna's soft yet direct approach. She hadn't expected that from the girl she considered to be more forest nymph than human, but she supposed that was her own internalised misogyny working its magic. Women were wildly diverse people, but most if not all shared sharp emotional intelligence and care for those they loved. They conversed openly about interpersonal relationships because it is the glue holding communities together, and that matters.

"I appreciate your candour, Luna, really I do. And even though I was a little taken about by your directness earlier today, I've had time to think about what you said and why you said it," Luna gracefully passed the drink back to Hermione. "And you're right. Ginny is impulsive, getting involved with me so soon after her break up with Harry," She acknowledged, and Luna visibly relaxed. "I guess I wasn't ready for how impulsivity seems to rub off on me quite easily. I'm usually such a straight and narrow type, as I'm sure you're aware," Hermione said sheepishly, and Luna twisted her face into mock surprise.

"Hermione Granger, straight and narrow? Surely not," She whispered, aghast. Hermione burst into laughter.

"What has the world come to, right?" Hermione threw back, causing Luna to snort. She sighed before continuing. "I know I have to cool things down with Ginny. I just don't want to ruin things with her, because I feel like this could be something wonderful. The timing just isn't right."

Luna grew solemn once more, and Hermione felt a weight pulling her heart into her stomach. It felt awkward and strange not to include Ginny in these deliberations, but talking to Luna really helped her fasten her resolve. They agreed to leave the tent and join the others, whose raucous conversation could be faintly heard down the way. They made a start towards it, and Hermione took a moment to appreciate what a beautiful and private spot they had found. There were no other campers around, and there was even a stream nearby they could possibly take a dip in later on. The night was thick and hot, with a steaminess that suggested rain could be on the way. Hermione frowned as she looked at the darkening sky. She was definitely forgetting something, like it had almost been meticulously wiped from her mind. It felt as though she was stepping around a memory, but as soon as she felt it in her grip, it would turn into water and slip through her fingers.

They reached the others, who had gathered the few oil lamps Hermione had packed and lit them to imitate a campfire. It was against park rules to light a fire during peak summer periods to prevent forest fires. No one seemed to mind though – it was hot enough without a fire to swelter next to. Hermione avoided Ginny's gaze and went to find herself a mug and some wine to fill it with. Ron and Harry were cackling about the latest prank his older brothers had executed against their long-suffering mother.

"So by then, Mum had gone into the kitchen to start on dinner, but they'd moved everything, and I mean  _everything_ , just a fraction to the left so she was constantly palming around for this, that and the other. She started knocking over most of the condiments and swearing her bloody head off. We ended up ordering Chinese that night because she was so put off." Ron finished, taking a rather large drink from his cup.

"I mean, it kind of sounds like Fred and George are losing their edge to me," Hermione remarked drily. "This from the boys who filled their entire house with foam? Or, lest we forget: JellyGate? Moving things about the kitchen and getting Chinese take-out seems comparatively tame."

"Come on, you didn't even hear the first part of the story because you were what? Napping?" Ron raised his eyebrows derisively. "Are we going to need to factor in naptime for Nana Granger this week?" Hermione clutched her chest, mock indignant.

"You wound me, Ronald! Anyway, that's no way to speak to your elders," She tutted brusquely, perching herself on a stump nearby. "Look you lot, we made it! I propose a toast: to us, for surviving this semester and for getting ourselves out here. Here's hoping we survive the week." Hermione joked, raising her plastic cup, and everyone else followed suit.

"Cheers!" They chanted in unison, clacking their cups together and taking a sip while everyone collectively ignored Ron's attempts to turn it into a chugging contest.

Everyone fell into an easy rhythm with one another. Ginny had even brought a portable speaker along and popped on a playlist. Hermione couldn't help but look at her every time a queer artist or song popped on, and Ginny always met her gaze with a playful smile. With a heavy heart, Hermione knew what she had to do, and eventually approached her.

"Do you want to come for a little night stroll with me? I wanted to see where this stream leads and it's such a clear night, what with the full moon and all." Hermione realised she was babbling; thank God Ginny made it easy on her by laughing lightly and lacing her arm through Hermione's. She relaxed into it, and barely looked at her friends; because what was suspicious about two girls showing physical affection for one another? Homophobia was shitty, but sometimes it came in handy.

"Lead the way, milady." Ginny stated pompously, earning a warning glare from Hermione. She grinned toothily, and they set off in the night. The woods were as beautiful as they were eerie, painted white in the pale moonlight. The walk was mostly silent until Hermione felt Ginny slow and turn to face her.

"Can I kiss you?" Ginny asked softly, and she looked into Hermione's eyes with such beautiful optimism that Hermione was almost tempted to throw the whole conversation she had planned out the window.

"Yes-I mean, no," Hermione fumbled, and looked away from what she was sure would be an expression of pure dismay. "Ginny, I brought you out here so we could talk."

"Oh." Ginny sounded crestfallen, and suddenly appeared anxious. She was smart, and could pick up on the distance Hermione had purposefully placed between them since their arrival at camp. Ginny Weasley wasn't exactly someone who was schooled in the art of being dumped, but she knew the signs when she saw them. Hermione bit her lip, seeing the thought process play out on her lover's face and wanting to assure her that she was painfully wrong.

"Gin, I want to preface this by saying that this – whatever it is we have – is unlike anything I've ever had. I think that's why I was so quick to dive into it with you – it felt so right, and I didn't really consider how it might impact things for you," Ginny looked up at that point, surprised but still downcast. "You haven't been broken up with Harry for that long, and I think you need a bit more time to process that. I feel selfish for not considering that sooner, but I let the way I feel about you guide me."

"So, I'm confused – that's a good thing, right?" Ginny narrowed her eyes, and stepped closer to Hermione. She wished the redhead hadn't done that, being so close to her overwhelmed her and she couldn't get her thoughts straight.

"Well, yes-I mean, no," Hermione stuttered as she fumbled with her words. This is exactly what she was afraid of. "Um, what I mean to say is, after Luna and I chatted-"

"Wait, you and  _Luna_  talked about this? About me?" Ginny's tone shifted from apprehensive to outright accusatory, and Hermione desperately tried to soothe her.

"No, I mean it was good! I needed to consider other perspectives, and Luna cares about you. She was just worried you were jumping into something before you were ready." Hermione realised the error of her words too late. Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously.

"What were you thinking? I'm an adult woman perfectly capable of making my own decisions, and I don't need my best friend and my not-girlfriend having secret conversations about what's best for me!" Ginny's voice was arching upwards, and her hair seemed electrified by her again it glowed so bright under the moon. She looked like a beautiful vengeful sprite set on earth to punish her, and Hermione was cowed before her.

"I'm sorry Ginny, I didn't mean to-" She whispered mournfully, but Ginny turned on her heel and made off back to camp, tossing a very colourful hand gesture at Hermione over her shoulder.

Hermione sunk to the forest floor, unsure if she wanted to cry or bitterly laugh at herself. She had been a fool to think this was a delicate way of approaching things with Ginny. That she had somehow been protecting Ginny, when Ginny was never one to follow anyone's rules – she'd dropped out of university in second year to pursue professional soccer, for goodness sake. Now she had spoiled things by being patronising and, possibly what Ginny would be most angry about, self-sabotaging. She knew in her miserable heart that Ginny was the lovely warmth she hadn't even realised she was looking for in everyone. Yet, she had ruined things in a manner that Hermione knew she engaged in.

Everyone could see Hermione's deep perfectionism had a flaw: that if everything couldn't be just as it should be, it was to be thrown away entirely. She had given up with sports so young because she didn't have a natural inclination for it in the same way that Harry and Ron had. Accordingly, she threw herself into academia and read every book she could inside out. Hermione was one of the first students at her particular high school to partially complete a BA in literature alongside her A-Levels. She went on to finish the degree in her first year of university, and completed another degree in law. Everything else was sidelined because she would never be accomplished enough at it, and with her deep dedication to her academic career there was barely time for anything (anyone) else. She knew she wanted to commit to a field – she just had such vast interests in varying areas that it was hard to pick one to focus on as an academic without expanding her knowledge pools generally. She had eventually decided on completing honours in law, and if she wanted to pursue her Masters afterwards she would – perhaps in sociology or policy. Ginny had been so starry eyed when Hermione had confessed her vision of her career trajectory; so encouraging and interested, they talked about it all night long. She asked thoughtful questions, and Hermione was stunned at how much she wanted to know about her studies. It was touching, and rejuvenated her dedication to starting honours.

Hermione angrily wiped a lone tear away; she wouldn't cry while all her friends were probably wondering where she was. She began trekking back in the direction on camp, but realised quickly the light had faded quite a lot since the darkening dusk it had been when she had pulled Ginny away. She knew the direction roughly, as they hadn't gone far, but it was pitch black. She fished for her phone and quickly realised she had left it switched off in her tent in case of emergencies. She would be fumbling in the dark then – her eyes had adjusted somewhat but she kept her hands in front of her for good measure. It wasn't long before her hand made contact with something hard, seemingly immutable.

A face lit up before her, and Hermione nearly shrieked at the stranger that was suddenly in front of her in an otherwise empty forest. A strangled cry left her mouth – an action which, when she noticed the features of the stranger to be a man, galled her to do. Men were so quick to pick up on perceived weakness from women, as Hermione was familiar with from living in the world generally and from her experiences in academia specifically. The face, seemingly divorced from its body, raised an eyebrow and shined what she realised was a phone light on her face rather unkindly.

"Oh, you're a person. I thought a wild animal had struck me from that noise you made." His voice was haughty, and Hermione was instantly reminded of all the rich private-school boys she had bested in her classes and tried to sneer her into submission. She squinted, pushing the phone light out of her face.

"Not an animal, just someone trying to get back to their friends," She muttered, moving to walk past him. "Who are waiting for me," She added firmly, as she noticed a hand dart towards her arm. She panicked until the hand faltered and fell. Hermione breathed out slowly in relief and continued her return to camp.

"Wait, please," He started hesitantly, and Hermione halted in her tracks. "I'm quite lost actually." She nearly smirked in satisfaction.

"Don't you have a phone?" She shot back at him ruefully. He chuckled bitterly in response.

"No bars in this godforsaken place, unfortunately." He commented lightly, turning his phone screen back to her. Hermione examined the screen to confirm the lack of mobile service suspiciously, eyeing him as she did. Her eyes had adjusted slightly, and she could make out that he was a pale youngish-looking man with dark hair – not unlike Harry, she thought faintly ( _while another thought simmered somewhere deeper in her mind_ ).

"Oh," Hermione mustered eventually. "Well, come with me then. I wouldn't want you to be lost and blundering around these woods until morning. You can stay and camp with us tonight, we'll make sure you're fed and have somewhere to sleep. Does that sound like a good idea?"

"Yes, thank you," He said simply ( _as if he was reading lines_ ). "I'm Tom, by the way. It's a pleasure meeting you despite the circumstances." He held out a hand in the dark.

"Right, yeah," Hermione scoffed, shaking it firmly and ignoring the cold chill she felt drip from her neck down her spine. "I'm Hermione –  _charmed I'm sure_." She added saccharinely, mockingly. She turned on her heel and began walking towards her camp, where she could hear Harry and Ron cackling in the distance. Hermione led the way, Tom trailing behind. She missed the near-triumphant grin he bore.


	3. iii. forskjellige gode ting // ada deane

([x](https://youtu.be/S0l0L6-8rl4?t=1m41s))

* * *

 

The first thing Hermione did as she stepped back into the dimly lit circle made up of her nearest and dearest was meet Ginny’s gaze. Her burning, furious, honeyed gaze, having the power to buckle her and make her beg. No one else brought Hermione Granger to her knees except Ginny. She remembered the figure haunting her every step and stepped away to alert the group they had company.

 

“This is Tom,” Hermione said, glancing his way as she did. “He got a little lost and is going to camp with us tonight.” She noticed – not without a ripple of irritation – the light had revealed just how incredibly handsome he was. He bore a classic hairstyle, dark waves pushed out of his face, where there was a bone structure seemingly cut from marble. His clothes were clearly expensive, and oddly clean for the setting. His dark eyes met hers, and she faintly wondered what colour they were. Tom quirked an eyebrow and she immediately flushed, looking away.

 

“Nice to meet you, Tom,” Harry was the first to stand and reach out his hand, oblivious to Hermione’s discomfort. “I’m Harry, welcome to our humble camp.” Tom observed Harry and for a moment Hermione thought she saw a flash of something in his eyes ( _red phosphorous?_ ) before a brilliant smile stretched across his face.

 

“Nice meeting you too, Harry,” Tom replied evenly, meeting Harry’s gaze. “Is this your first night in the park?”

 

“Yeah, we’re here for the fine vistas and the privacy to drink loudly,” Harry joked, and Tom chuckled lightly.

 

“A worthy endeavour,” He quipped back, and it wasn’t long before everyone relaxed into the company of this stranger. Luna, Ginny and Ron introduced themselves, and Ron offered Tom a cup of wine, asking if he didn’t mind it in a mug. He accepted it graciously, and took a seat next to Hermione, whose immediate instinct was to inch away. Not wanting to appear rude, she stayed put and let his clean, cool cologne wash over her. Their legs were centimetres apart, and Hermione ignored the urge to close the distance and allow her thigh to brush his. She was perturbed by this strange push and pull attraction she was experiencing towards Tom, who was listening to Luna avidly recount the ways in which government was controlling its people through water sources, and couldn’t help but wonder if it actually was genuine attraction. It seemed entirely beyond her control in a way that she had only experienced with Ginny, and if there was anything Hermione hated, it was the loss of control. She resented him for it.

 

“So what brings you out here, Tom? You don’t exactly seem like the hiking type – no offence,” Ron interrupted Luna’s conspiracy theory diatribe, and ignored the glare she sent his way.

 

“Ah, you caught me. As much as I appreciate nature in all her beauty, it’s something else that brings me here,” Hermione could have sworn his eyes slid in her direction before he continued. “I’m looking for a village nearby here, and there’s a deceased estate that has been abandoned for years that I have an interest in.”

 

“That’s…weird and cryptic,” Hermione said blandly, and Ginny’s foot leapt out to kick her from the side. Smarting, Hermione looked at her pointedly, and Ginny simply mouthed ‘be nice’. She rolled her eyes, but turned to him and plastered a smile on her face. “Sorry, Tom. Continue.”

 

“Well, I’m an architect, and it’s a building of great interest to me. If it’s as old as I suspect it to be, it’s a miracle it’s still standing. I want to understand why, so I made a plan to camp here and then hike over in the morning. Unfortunately, I clearly overestimated my survival skills, because here I am instead of at my own camp.” He laughed to himself, and Hermione watched as everyone shared his mirth. She wondered if she should be suspicious at how quickly everyone seemed at ease in the presence of this stranger, but instead chalked that up to her own distrustful nature. Men inspired a particular wariness in Hermione, and the fact that she was close friends with some was a testament to the wonderful people both Harry and Ron were. Her eyes drifted back to Ginny, who was eyeing Tom with interest. She forced herself to stifle the feelings of jealousy – she had no right to be jealous, and Ginny was free to admire anyone she wanted. It didn’t stop it from hurting but it was her responsibility to deal with it.

 

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind checking out this place. I’m assuming you’re going to doing some light breaking and entering?” Ginny leant over and flashed a cheeky smile. Tom returned her smile, and leant across Hermione to meet Ginny on her level.

 

“More than light. Are you handy in lock picking by any chance? I’ve tried my hand at it but I’m still not adept by any means.” Tom confessed, watching as Ginny’s face lit up.

 

“You’re in luck, Tom,” Ginny winked, and Hermione willed herself not to roll her eyes at their flirty back and forth. “I’ve been picking locks since I was nine. I don’t have my tools with me, but I’m assuming you came prepared?”

 

“Ginny!” Ron exclaimed, aghast. “What do you mean, since you were nine?” Now it was Ginny’s turn to roll her eyes, turning to her brother.

 

“Oh don’t act so surprised, _Ronniekins_ ,” Ginny threw back, while Ron flushed in displeasure at the nickname. “We both grew up with Fred and George as our brothers – how do you think they stole the neighbours keys and took that Beemer for joyride that time?”

 

“You’re making them sound like delinquents, Ginny,” Hermione stated wryly. “They’re mischievous, but really, breaking and entering? I doubt it.”

 

“Well, either way, they taught me how to pick locks. I’m really quite good at it.” She smiled sunnily, and Hermione let herself admire the redhead for a moment before she felt Tom’s eyes on her.

 

“I would be so appreciative if you came along Ginny,” Tom said warmly, smiling gently. “Hermione, would you care to join?” Before she could open her mouth, her friends collapsed into laughter.

 

“Hermione? No way, she’d sooner report us all to the authorities than break into a creepy old house.” Ginny snorted, and Hermione bristled.

 

“Excuse me, but _Hermione_ can speak for herself,” She spat, and everyone quietened down hastily. “Tom, I would love to join but we all have a packed schedule while we’re here. Also, I’d hate to slow you down.” She smiled sweetly, and Tom nodded courteously.

 

“Uh, actually, this house sounds pretty interesting,” Luna piped up, and Hermione glared daggers at her. “Do you think there’s any ghosts, Tom?”

 

“Not sure, but perhaps you’ll be the one to bear witness to that, Luna.” Tom replied politely, without a hint of derision in his tone. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder where the haughtiness when they had met had gone; he was being a perfect gentleman. Maybe she’d caught him on an off moment – why then did it seem like this was the off moment?

 

“No, come on Hermione,” Harry said pleadingly, meeting her gaze evenly. “This sounds like it could be fun! And if it’s not, we can always part ways and continue on with your plan. Didn’t you say you tell me you wanted to be more spontaneous this year?”

 

“Ugh, you’re going to be a disgustingly good lawyer, Potter,” Hermione sighed in defeat, as Harry punched the air mockingly with a victorious grin spread across his face. “Fine, we’ll have a look with you tomorrow, Tom. It sounds…interesting, to say the least.” She admitted, and barely noticed the genuine smile of pleasure that formed on Tom Riddle’s face.

 

* * *

 

They set out for the house on foot, leaving their tents in their hard won secluded little spot. Hermione encouraged everyone to take a pack with a two-litre bottle of water, handing a spare one to Tom, who had returned after clearing his own camp. It was unclear, but Hermione supposed he would attempt squatting in the uninhabited manor. He was strange, an oxymoron; he looked the part of a clean-cut young professional, and definitely demonstrated the intelligence of someone in a field such as architecture. However, his plan was vague and chaotic – breaking into a property for some architectural interest project seemed poorly thought out and ill advised to Hermione. In fact, it almost seemed like a front for some other purpose, Hermione ruminated. Just as that thought passed through her head, Tom’s eyes met hers from across the way. He smiled ( _wolfishly_ ) and Hermione returned it automatically. He went back to laughing at something Ginny said, and Hermione felt the tug of a familiar and ugly feeling inside her.

 

“Morning, Hermione,” Luna’s dreamy voice sang out from beside her as the girl jogged to meet Hermione’s steady pace, who was relieved by the distraction of someone else’s conversation “So you and Ginny talked, I’m assuming.” It wasn’t a question; Luna bore witness to the icy cold wrath of Ginny Weasley last night. They had slept in the same tent but it had been completely silent until the sun had risen and so had Ginny, who fled the tent as soon as she was decent.

 

“Oh, we talked,” Hermione chuckled mirthlessly. “Well, we yelled. Well, Ginny yelled.” She amended with her usual dose of acerbic wit, and Luna sighed heavily.

 

“I feel like I should apologise,” She began firmly, and Hermione glanced over at her in surprise. “I put myself in a very ugly position between the two of you, and it wasn’t right of me to attempt to fix things for Ginny. It’s a knee-jerk reaction from school, you know, and I just hope I didn’t come across as manipulative.” Hermione was again taken aback by Luna’s self-reflective capacity.

 

“Luna, that’s very noble of you to try and take the hit this time, but honestly, I was the one who massively put my foot in my mouth in the moment,” Hermione reassured the blonde, who smiled graciously. “We were both a little stupid to think Ginny would take well to being spoken about and her capacity for decision-making taken away from her.”

 

“You’re right, as always.” Luna smiled wryly, and Hermione chuckled.

 

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” She joked, before glancing back at Tom, who was still walking ahead with Ginny, and lowering her voice. “Hey, Luna, what do you think of Tom?”

 

“Oh, he’s wonderful,” Luna’s face had split into a smile as she began to gush warmly. “You know he has a subscription to the Fortean Times? He said it’s a great way to keep up-to-date with the real news, because these theories are rooted in some form of fact.” Luna was so animated, Hermione scarcely wanted to be the downer to suggest there was something off-putting about Riddle.

 

“Well, that’s…certainly interesting,” Hermione struggled to finish her sentence, before Luna launched into an excitable diatribe about her thoughts on the latest issue of the Fortean Times. Hermione pretended to listen, while guiltily stealing looks at Tom and Ginny, who seemed to be getting along like a house on fire.

 

They had been walking for an hour when they reached a small village, which Tom explained used to be called Little Hangleton. Hermione joked it was renamed Grassington as it was a clear choice for the name of a village in a national park, earning a few eye rolls and scattered laughs. Harry and Ron both expressed their relief at being in civilisation, and suggested they stop somewhere for a pint and a meal before continuing onward. Tom seemed amenable (though Hermione thought she noted an edge in his voice as he agreed), and so they headed to the Black Horse Hotel as directed by Ron’s GPS. Hermione pointed out that they would hardly need it in a village this small but Ron insisted he needed a timeline on how long the wait for his next meal would be.

 

They entered the hotel, which was scarcely occupied save a few old men, and took their seats in a sad-looking bistro. Hermione quickly scanned the menu to assess her options before taking a seat, which she was appalled to realise someone had pulled back for her.

 

“Special dietary needs?” Tom spoke softly into her ear as he slotted the seat inwards. Hermione begrudgingly took a seat, deciding against lecturing him on his misogyny and instead answering his question.

 

“I’m a vegetarian.” She replied shortly, placing her pack out of the way. Ron called drinks orders and Hermione gratefully supplied him with hers before he made his way to the bar. Tom took the empty seat next to Hermione, much to her chagrin.

 

“Well, taking the life of another is never something to be taken lightly,” Tom said absently, while perusing the menu. “I’m assuming the decision is moral rather than out of necessity.”

 

Certainly not the response she was expecting.

 

“You assume right,” She said lightly, trying very hard not to focus on the way his hair was falling onto his perfect features while he was scanning the menu. “So we’re close to this mysterious manor then?”

 

“Yes,” He smiled almost privately. “I’m very excited for you to see the place, Hermione. Ginny was telling me you’ve travelled extensively, and considered studying architecture at one point. Your thoughts matter to me, that was my main reason for inviting you along.”

 

“You two were talking about me?” Hermione couldn’t stop herself; her curiosity was well and truly piqued. Tom studied her for a moment before replying.

 

“You’re an impressive person Hermione,” Tom Riddle said lowly, and Hermione felt her skin warm as he leaned in. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

 

The waiter arrived just as she felt Tom’s breath on her cheek. It was cool, like an autumn breeze.

 

* * *

 

After finishing their food and drinks, the group began trekking up a hill, with Tom leading the way. Hermione tried to meet Ginny’s eye, hoping they could walk together and clear the air, but she was pointedly ignoring Hermione (and Luna, for that matter) and her arms were interlocked with Harry’s. Ron and Luna were nervously walking side-by-side, shyly stealing glances at each other every now and again. Hermione did not want to join Tom after their strange interaction at the Black Horse, but also didn’t want to appear like she was being outwardly unfriendly to the person that all of her friends seemed to suddenly love. She caught up to Tom, who was stridently setting the pace for the manor she could now vaguely make out in the distance.

 

“Hello again,” Hermione intoned as she jogged to meet his pace. A small smile formed on Tom’s lips when he saw her, and Hermione wondered if he was attracted to her. She knew she was pretty enough, but plain for the most part. Her real beauty lay in her intelligence and wit, and in her deep compassion and loyalty to others. She didn’t have any issues with her confidence, but Tom was almost otherworldly in his physical beauty. They simply didn’t match in that regard; and yet, Hermione could sense that he wanted ( _needed_ ) something from her. Her natural assumption was that it was sexual, but for some reason, she couldn’t trust that it was just that.

 

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Tom commented mildly, reviving Hermione from her thoughts, and she couldn’t help but agree. They had gained considerable height since leaving the village, and it looked so small from above. Hermione grew up in London, and had never lived anywhere smaller than Cambridge, so imagining an existence in these villages was nearly unimaginable for her. It seemed idyllic, and looked just so, sun-soaked and lurid amongst the rolling green hills. But Hermione knew she needed stimulation and constant movement in order to be satisfied. A queer scene didn’t hurt either, she mused, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Thunder began to rumble in the distance, and Hermione faintly wondered what the time was; she still wasn’t sure she wanted to continue this adventure with Tom. Maybe she and the group should head back to camp before the rain set in. Oddly, she felt a sense of calm wash over her, and she simply looked back at handsome Tom Riddle, with his cheekbones cut from marble, and gave a more girlish response than she ever thought possible.

 

“You’re right, it’s dreamy,” She replied, taking in the scenery and clean air with pleasure. She realised they were passing a graveyard, and noticed Harry’s furrowed brow as he stared at a particular headstone. His eyes seemed to glaze over as his head swivelled in order to continue studying it. Ginny was busily chatting away, and hadn’t noticed her walking companion’s preoccupation.

 

“You all went to Cambridge together then?” Tom’s question pulled her focus from her friend, and she plastered a smile on her face as she turned back to him. The calm from earlier had drifted considerably, but she couldn’t remember for the life of her what she’d been thinking ( _it had seemed important at the time_ ).

 

“Yes,” She replied as she began to push her frizzy hair into a ponytail, her neck breathing a sigh of relief as she did. “Well, Ginny didn’t end up finishing but she started the year after Harry, Ron and I. Luna was in her course and has another year left, but Harry and I just graduated.”

 

“Which I understand makes this your second bachelors degree?” Tom asked, and Hermione felt some small part of her hum in pleasure at the lift in tone she recognised as appreciation. “You’re what, twenty-three?”

 

“Twenty-three in September, actually,” Hermione didn’t bother darting her eyes down in some show of modesty; she met his gaze proudly. “I’m starting honours next semester.”

 

“That’ll keep you busy,” Tom smiled wryly, looking off as if in remembrance. “In my honours year, I became a little too well acquainted with the coffee machine.”

 

“Hah,” Hermione scoffed appreciatively at his wit, which seemed to mirror her own self-deprecatory style of comedy. “You’re a right Jack Whitehall with your posh-boy wit aren’t ya?” She elbowed him teasingly, and he gave a movie-star smile in return.

 

“Compare me to Whitehall and wound me, why don’t you?” He clutched his chest in mock agony, and Hermione snickered.

 

“Come on, I bet you two went to bloody Eton together,” Hermione was half-joking, but Tom’s expression changed completely, the humour completely leaving his face.

 

“Don’t presume to know where I came from,” He said so quietly, so lowly, Hermione had to strain to catch every word. She was almost stiff with fear at his response, but wondered if she was misconstruing his apparent anger. She also wondered if she deserved it.

 

“Oh,” Hermione did duck her head in shame; automatically cowed in thinking she had overstepped some boundary. “I’m sorry, was that a silly thing to say? We were just having a back and forth, and well-“

 

“It’s fine.” His response was clipped. Hermione didn’t know what to say, and was grateful that the manor was only a few minutes walk away now.

 

“Oh, Tom,” Ginny jogged up beside the two of them, ignoring Hermione completely. “Have you got the lock picking tools on you? I’ll go make a start.” Ginny had her game face on; the one that Hermione found so desperately attractive in the fiery redhead. She was a force to be reckoned with on the field, jogging in place and stretching out her sinuous limbs before launching in and cleaning up the competition. She was a striker, weaving between players with near ballet-like grace to score. And now, looking at Ginny carrying a twelve-kilo pack like it was nothing, and grabbing the tools off Tom before jogging over to the manor, Hermione was rapt. Making sure she wasn’t slack jawed in front of Tom, she pretended to study her phone and opened a social media app busily while calming her racing heart.

 

“Well, that was a bloody trek,” Wheezed Ron, coming up from behind and clutching his side.

 

“I told you not to neck that third pint, mate,” Harry pointed out, while Luna tittered.

 

“Oi, you were the one who dared me to!” Ron spluttered, and Harry sniggered.

 

“Yeah, I did do that,” Harry sighed proudly, while Ron made a face and gave him the finger. “So, this is it?”

 

“Yes,” Tom said, smiling as he surveyed the property. “Impressive, no?”

 

“Looks big and old and dusty to me,” Ron shrugged, and Tom’s lip curled. He said nothing, but Hermione recognised contempt from a mile off. She found it a detestable quality in anyone else, but particularly those who spoke with a posh accent. Remembering his earlier words, drenched in quiet fury, she kept that thought to herself. Ron hadn’t noticed a thing, and even Harry was busily studying the estate.

 

“It has its own cemetery?” Harry asked lightly, though it was more of a statement.

 

“Yes, I suppose so,” Tom replied evenly, regarding Harry with what Hermione could have sworn was amusement. “I don’t know much about the family who owned this previously, so it should be interesting to see what’s inside.”

 

They arrived at the front door where Ginny was busily fiddling with the lock.

 

“Howzit, Gin?” Ron asked, and Ginny barely took stock of the group of people looming over her shoulder, firmly concentrating on the task in front of her.

 

“Yeah, good,” She had a bobby between her lips which she spoke through. “It’s an old lock so we should be good in a couple of minutes.” A crack of lighting lit up the sky, which had darkened in a matter of minutes. Petrichor had begun to permeate the air, and Hermione shifted nervously as she glanced up the pregnant sky. Just as she was about to suggest finding cover elsewhere, the lock clicked open and Ginny seemed surprised and proud to have gotten the door open quicker than she expected. Everyone began to file in as the first drops of rain started to splatter on the path of the overgrown garden.

 

* * *

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPNPpIxDoAo))

 

Inside the dark of the manor, there were hardwood floors, faded moth-eaten rugs, and ghostly misshapen figures. It smelt of an old bookshop, and of clean leather. Hermione quickly realised the figures were pieces of furniture, and dumped her pack before pulling at one of the sheets. A beautiful pintuck lounge revealed itself, classic in navy velvet. Hermione turned back to the gang with her mouth open in joyful delight. Everyone dropped their packs in unison began making their way through the house, ripping sheets off the pieces they were hiding. Unsurprisingly, more tasteful pieces revealed themselves, and Hermione found herself looking at Tom suspiciously. This house didn’t seem abandoned; everything was old, but beautiful. Who would leave this perfected curated space behind?

 

Ginny was the first to dart upstairs, and Hermione couldn’t help but follow. It was curiosity but it was also the magnet inside Ginny that drew Hermione into her orbit wherever she went. As she walked through the hallway, Hermione took in the rooms as she passed them. Ginny had torn through and removed some of the sheets, leaving them pooled at the feet of mahogany chest of drawers and gleaming four poster beds like odd markers for archaeological sites. The rooms were just like the downstairs rooms had been: thoughtfully decorated and personal. Hermione felt a slick shiver slide down her spine but it seemed to dull itself as quickly as it came.

 

“Ginny?” Hermione called out, and she heard the sound of footfalls stilling themselves the room at the end of the hall. She sighed and entered the room. “Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me-“

 

Ginny strode forward, cutting off Hermione’s words with a kiss. Hermione was as startled as she was thrilled. She relaxed into the kiss, and as soon as she did Ginny broke it off, pushing Hermione away a little.

 

“You’re right; I don’t want to talk,” She started languidly, studying at her nails. “But I can think of a few things that don’t involve talking that I’d like to do with you.” Hermione licked her chapped lips nervously as Ginny stretched her beautiful lithe body back across the bed behind her. They was a rich antique tapestry on the wall behind it, making Ginny look like she was the living subject of a classical painting.

 

“You want to apologise?” Ginny asked saccharinely, curling her lip cruelly while she watched Hermione eagerly nod. “You can start by getting down on your knees and begging for my forgiveness.” Hermione didn’t need to be told twice; she sank to her knees without any hesitation.

 

“Ginny, won’t you please forgive me?” Hermione asked softly, thick lashes downcast. Ginny licked her lips suggestively, curled a finger and beckoned Hermione forward. She crawled forward to meet her lover. Hermione couldn’t help but feel thrilled by the power play; they had done it before in different roles but there was something Hermione adored about Ginny’s complete confidence in bossing her around. Ginny cupped her cheek lovingly, running a thumb over Hermione’s lower lip, which Hermione kissed.

 

“I forgive you,” Ginny said softly, running her hand through Hermione’s tangled mane. Hermione kicked the door shut as Ginny’s giggles sounded out through the empty rooms in the Riddle House.


End file.
